Highbough shouts over the howling wind, "I agree, we need to get out of here." He stands close to Wen and tests whether his helm (or some other shiny object in his inventory he might have forgotten about in his senility) is reflective enough for the pair to pass through the Ring. Failing that, if Wen doesn't have any better ideas, Highbough suggests, "Maybe we can scavenge what we need from the crashed skiff. If memory serves, imagining the nearest fortress is 12 o'clock, then the crash site is at 2 o'clock." The infernal old Elf is beginning to feel at home in the desert.

Wen and Highbough converse in the hot, sand-blow wind in near-shouts. There is no sign of the crashed skiff anywhere... even the stone ring stands half-buried in the ever-moving red sand...

I recall that Highbough and Wen returned from the Red Desert to the Blighted Abbey and gathered reflective items with which to operate the gates, but I don't recall who ended up carrying what when they returned with the others.

Given that it's been a year or so since we actively maintained these character sheets, I'm not going to wholly trust my own records. That being the case, I could search through the old posts looking for clues, or just assume that either Wen or Highbout have something useful to hand. I think the latter will serve, so if either of you post something reasonable to that effect, it will stand...

My understanding is that Armando presently possesses a polished oval platter; Desmond/Mondes has the silver bowl from the Reliquary (whose concave surface will be interesting); and Wen (I think?) has the genuine square-shaped mirror which Armando located in the infirmary. It is also known that a polished silvered blade will serve at a need.

It's a little confusing but Armando suggested we use the Platter to go through the ring and the mirror was with highbough so we have 1.. And somewhere the Desmond has 1.

Wen nods but then pauses. "I feel we must leave some sign that we have gone. I have Quill, Ink and Parchment but nothing better to store it in then a spare scroll case. Let us at least write the others a note and leave it here."

Wen removes his pack and gets out his writing tools. Quickly writing out his simple note.

Friends,

Highbough and I have returned through the portal. Without water it was death to stay any longer. If you find this note do not worry about us and return at once, Desmond has the means to travel and we await your return. May our blessing find you and bring you home.

Wen makes the effort to pen his note; a frustrating procedure in the hot, blustering, gale. The quill seems to have a petulant life of its own, skittering madly in the wind, so that Wen is eventually forced to strip the feathers from it in order to write sensibly. Even then, the sheaf of paper flails like a speared boar as he writes, and the ink on his pen seems dry after every second rune is writ. None the less, he eventually has the note scrawled out legibly.

Meanwhile, Highbough observes that the stone ring itself stands half-burried in the moving sands, so busies himself clearing the red silica away so that the whole of the magic-circle might be revealed. With the sandstorm in progress, it is a futile effort; any sand dug out is soon replaced by more of the same. With a concerted effort, it is possible to expose the full device for long enough to use it, but there is no doubt it will be inundated again within minutes...

Both elves are sure that any scroll case left lying about would surely suffer the same fate.

The troublesome wind and sand has not escaped Wen's notice. He looks around for a few rocks to make a small ring near the edge of the Portal and places the scroll case within. "Probably a useless gesture but it had to be done. Hopefully when they clear the ring for use they will hit upon the note. Well let us be off".

Highbough continues to clear the back-filling sand away from the right while Wen positions carefully positions himself to transport the pair of them before raisin up the mirror.

vvvvvVVVVVVVVVVVWWHUMP!

Highbough and Wen are dragged out of the hot sandstorm to come suddenly staggering into a cool, quite, dark place. They have returned to the Basal below the broken chapel.

The Ring Room is cool and dark; there are but two torches fluttering in the broad hall, casting a deep shadows that dance upon the walls. A pall of red dust carried on wave of desert air rolls through the chamber, as hot air steams momentarily off their backs as the dust settles.

Wen finds the mirror has already vanished from his hands; crumbled into a fine dust and blow across the cosmos.